I’m celebrating Valentine’s Day a bit early, with a sexy snippet from my Valentine’s kink collection, Hearts & Handcuffs. This bit is from “Domestic Goddess”, which features a committed couple in a D/s relationship. When her Master slips into depression after losing his job, Elizabeth tries drastic measures, both to punish him for his neglect and to wake up his libido.
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For more sexy Sunday kisses—including a very naughty excerpt from Victoria Blisse herself—click over to Sunday Snog Central!
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Time expanded. Tireless, full of power, she lashed at him again and again, her pussy weeping in sympathy with his agony and his lust. The only sounds were the whoosh of the rattan as it sang through the air and the thwack as it landed, oh so painfully, on his poor punished ass.
All at once, she heard something else. The sound of him sobbing. She stopped immediately, turned his head to the side so that she could see his tear-stained face. “Enough?” she murmured.
Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded.
“Say it then. Tell me your safeword.”
“Goddess,” he whispered, closing his eye in shame and relief.
“That’s a good slave,” she said, tossing the carpet beater away. “Want another chance to make me come?”
His face brightened.
“Get up, then. On your knees, facing the chair.”
He was surprisingly agile for such a big man. She seated myself on the upholstered seat and draped her legs over the arms. Her cunt was spread wide before him. He licked his lips, and the ghost of a smile crossed his face. She didn't have the heart to be stern.
“Do it, slave.”
Oh, if he was good before, now he was marvelous! His mouth was a machine with a thousand different speeds and settings. Delicate and slow, rough and fast, circling and probing, nipping and thrusting.
I should have made him submit months ago, she mused, her mind fogged with lust. He had always liked to eat pussy, but she'd never been so thoroughly, so blissfully serviced.
She let herself go, dropped her dominant persona and allowed herself writhe and groan under the assault of his lips and tongue. “Harder,” she begged, teetering on the edge. “Deeper, more, oh please, more...”
It was the 'please', she supposed later, that shifted things. An admission of weakness, of ungovernable desire. In an instant, he was off his knees, between her legs, his swollen cock already half inside her.
“No,” she cried, trying to regain the advantage. “I didn't give you permission—” He stopped her protests by fastening his sticky mouth on hers, as he slid into her and took her over.
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